


Unknown

by mrbarbacarisi



Category: X-Men: First Class (2011) - Fandom
Genre: Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, F/M, Friendship, Non-Graphic Rape/Non-Con, Rape Aftermath, Romance
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2013-05-11
Updated: 2013-10-19
Packaged: 2017-12-11 12:29:40
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Rape/Non-Con
Chapters: 3
Words: 4,289
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/798739
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/mrbarbacarisi/pseuds/mrbarbacarisi
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>He knew his past could not be changed. All the sorrows would stay there until his death. All he had was the future. The unknown.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. The Star

He remembered the first day he had to wear the Star of David. It had felt awkward on his coat. He always needed to straighten it, adjust it. The small irritating cloth didn't belong there. It felt so heavy on his clothes, as if it were a two ton anchor rather than a tattered piece of fabric. He had wanted to rip it off and burn it, but he couldn't. It was the Star of David and he was Jewish. It represented his way of life, his faith. It labeled him. It was inescapable.

The looks people gave him. Some as if he were a disgusting bug that didn't deserve the short life he had been given. Others with pity. As if they wanted to reach out and take his hand, but after finding how filthy it really was, deciding to pull away. And still others, who understood. Who also were forced to wear a Star.

There was a boy in his class named Peter who had refused to wear his Star. His entire family had refused, claiming that they were German citizens. The government had no right to discriminate against the Jewish people. A week later, they were rounded up and taken to a work camp. He never heard of the boy or his family again.

It was because of this incident that his father double and triple checked their Stars every morning.

"If we keep our heads down," he said, "wear our Stars, don't complain, don't make a sound, then the Nazis have no reason to keep us from living our lives. We are German citizens, Erik. We mustn't forget that."

He nodded in response, "Yes, Father."

There was an older girl, Rosanna. She loved books, so of course she was a frequent customer of his father's bookstore. She was the first girl, beside his mother, that he had considered beautiful. She was completely alluring to him. On the days he watched the shop after classes, he'd stare at the house down the street, begging her to visit. He loved how she'd tuck her dark flowing hair behind her ear. He loved how her hazel eyes would twinkle when he talked about the new merchandise. As if he were the only person in the world.

After the first few months of wearing the Star, he had voiced his concerns for her. She had tucked her hair behind her ear, eyes twinkling as she assured him that it was only for their protection.

"Don't worry, Erik," she smiled at him, "They give us these Stars to label us, but they only protect us. David is with us."

For awhile, he believed her. Until she and her family were shipped away. His father had come to him, "Her father said the wrong thing in the wrong place. Keep your head down, Son. Keep quiet. We are German citizens."

He nodded, "Yes, Father."

Each day he went to school, more and more people were gone. Once it was the girl he sat next to in History. She was nice. She had offered her sandwich to him before when he had forgotten his lunch. He never knew her name.

– – –

_"Remember, Erik. We are German citizens."_

_"Yes, Father."_

– – –

The next to go was his Biology teacher, Miss Lehrer. He never enjoyed Biology, but he did enjoy her teaching style. She never only taught from the text book. She always was trying to find a new way to keep her students entertained. Her class was never boring. Maybe that was because she was unmarried. It was a shock to hear that she had been transferred.

– – –

_"There is hope. We are German citizens."_

_"Yes, Father."_

– – –

The last he saw to go was his neighbors across the street, the Resnick family. They ran a butcher's shop. The best meat he had ever tasted. They were kind to his family. When they bought meat, they would buy a book in return. His father was sad to see them go.

– – –

_"Don't worry, Son. We'll be safe. We are German citizens."_

_"Yes, Father."_

– – –

There was a harsh pounding on the door. He sat up in bed, frozen. Who would knock at this time at night?

He carefully moved toward the hallway, listening. His father had answered the knock. There was another voice, harsh and demanding. They were ordered to pack their suitcases quickly and stand in front of their home. If they tried to disobey, they would be shot.

His father was upstairs, "Pack your things, Erik. Quickly now."

He nodded and numbly began to pack. Clothes, shoes, socks, books, anything else that would fit.

His father stood with his mother by the door, each holding a suitcase.

"Get dressed, Erik," His father's eyes held intense anguish, "Hurry."

He nodded and obeyed. The last thing he pulled on was his coat, the Star bright in the dark room. He held his hat to his head as he bent to pick up his suitcase. He hurried down the stairs. His father was waiting for him.

"Ready?"

He nodded and slowly began to move toward the door. His father caught his arm, "We are German citizens, Erik. This is the worst they can do to us."

He shook his head, "No, Father. We don't know what they can do to us."

His mother placed her hands on his shoulders, "Everything is alright, Erik. Everything is alright."

He doesn't believe her, but he nods anyway. She smiles faintly. His spirits are somewhat lifted knowing that he could cheer her up in some way.

Together, they stepped out of their home for the last time. It had begun to rain. He was glad he thought to wear his hat.

He silently allowed his father to hoist him into the back of the military truck, his mother following. The truck lurched forward once his father is aboard.

He studied his home clinically, watching the fire they have set lurch through the windows. If the Nazis can label Jews, round them up, torch their homes, and then ship them off to work camps...what else can they do? Torture? Kill? He does not dare imagine worse.

He dared to sneak a glance at the other passengers once his home has slipped out of sight. They do not speak. They only cower and cry, softly.

Fear has taken them. Fear of the unknown, fear of what waits for them in the camp. Fear of the Nazis' power.

He looked over at his father, thinking of his constant words of comfort, _"We are German citizens, Erik. We are safe."_ They weren't safe now. They were taken from their home, as so many others were. Herded like cattle to God knows where. They weren't German citizens anymore. They were only Jews, animals to the Nazis. He settled back into the hard wooden bench, staring blankly into the darkness, the Stars shimmering faintly under flashes of streetlights. He straightened his once more.


	2. Prison

Soldiers escorted him down the hall, boots clanking on concrete. Hands gripped his arms fiercely as they led his docile body deeper into hell. He was sure that is where he was. No human soul would have even _thought_ to do that to his mother. His mother...

A tear fell down his cheek. One of the guards noticed. The next thing he felt was his cheek smarting. He tried to cradle the injury in his hand, but another blow to his ribs stopped him. He winced, lowering his head to hide his reaction.

 _I cannot show weakness_ , he thought.

Strong arms tugged on his feeble ones as he fell behind. He grunted at the wrenching pain in his shoulders, but that is all he allowed to escape. After that, he kept pace with the demons. He did not know where they were taking him. They dragged him on and on, tugging relentlessly on his arms. He began to realize that he was tiring. He wouldn't be able to keep up to their quick pace much longer.

Finally, they stopped. He looked up, watching as one of them released him. He almost sighed as the pressure lifted from his bones. He almost groaned as his right arm was pulverized to compensate.

The demon that left him was busying himself with some kind of metal gate. Maybe at another time he would have been slightly interested in the process, but now he simply did not care. He had heavier thoughts weighing on his mind.

He glanced down the long hallway behind him. For a moment, he thought of escape. If he could find that place hidden in his brain, the place that controls his power, just for a minute. He would use it. Shape the metal in the endless windows he had passed.

But the moment was gone. The gate stood open. His body was thrown through it.

At first he thought they were tossing him out into the rain. He expected to be kneeling in mud, but instead his knees cracked on cold concrete. Sucking in a breath, he reached out. His hand met a rough surface. A wall.

He turned. The demons had closed the gate, locking him between the bars and the rough wall. Slowly, he stood, staring after them as they walked away. It wasn't until he wrapped his fingers around the metal bars that he realized where they have stashed him.

In a cell.

– – – 

“No! Please, leave her. Take me! Take me,” she begged.

The pair of Nazi guards studied her. Small, young and starving, kneeling in stinking mud. The shorter guard shrugged, looking to his taller counterpart.

Swallowing, she looked to the woman beside her. A heavy arm draped over her shoulders, hard worn eyes glaring at her.

“Menah,” the elder woman hissed. “I won't let them hurt you.”

She blinked back tears. Waves of hurt and fear rolled off the woman, slamming into the girl's chest with tremendous force.

“I-I'm sorry, Nira,” she choked out, her throat tightening.

After everything her aunt had done to keep her alive and safe and happy, the last thing she deserved was to be taken to the barracks. Where she would be seen as nothing more than a toy, an old rag doll no one cares for.

If anyone, she would go. The bright innocent niece who felt another's emotions as if they were her own. Who carried everyone's pain and suffering. Who knew how a person thought from just a glance. Who could sense their strengths, weaknesses, each and every reaction they've ever had in life. She could guess, very accurately, what they wanted and needed to survive.

The people from her village thought her deep empathy would shape her into an excellent wife. Nira always told them that her niece was smarter than that. She wouldn't throw her intelligence away for a man. She was going to be a nurse, a scientist, an author. She had always felt honored by her aunt's faith in her. She supported her rain or shine. Now it was time to repay her.

The scrutiny of the men was building. She knew they'd take her offer. These two preferred younger, prettier girls, but any woman would suit their needs. She had overheard a few of the guards talking while she worked in the fields. One of the women in their stocks had decided to retaliate, punching the man she was with in the nose. As punishment, he shot her through the heart. Now they were scouring for a replacement. The younger, the better. And the fact that she was offering herself to them only sweetened the deal.

Finally, the taller guard grunted an order to stand. They obeyed.

“You,” he pushed Nira roughly, forcing her to stumble backward. “Get back to work. You,” he pulled the younger of the two toward him. “Come with me.”

She met Nira's gaze one last time, a tear slipping down her cheek. She felt her aunt's pain, fright and determination. Nira didn't want this for her, but she had made up her mind. She hoped her aunt understood her silent apology.

“Live on!” She yelled as they took her niece away.

Relief flooded through her. She knew and she was still supporting her. More tears fell.

“Live on,” the bright girl whispered.

– – – 

He sat and stared. He was alone. Only him and the metal bars sealing him in his cell.

His hands shook furiously, sweat beading on his brow. He forced his brain to cooperate. To bend the metal, to shape it. But it disobeyed, always disobeyed.

The bars did not move. He was still helpless and caged, locked away like an animal.

Exhausted, he curled into a ball on the cold floor. He buried his face into the fabric of his trousers, crushing his eyes on his kneecaps. A few silent tears escaped from his eyes. He quickly wiped them away, furious with himself for the outburst. Exposing himself would only bring more pain. No one else would die because of his failure. He would not mention his father or Peter or Rosanna or anyone. The only person he would allow them to hurt was himself.

He listened to the patient echo of marching footsteps and closed his eyes. He focused on his breathing, taking deep, slow breaths.

Inhale.

He tried to forget this day. Everything.

Exhale.

He tried to forget his home burning. His life falling away from him.

Inhale.

He tried to forget the crowd, herded like cattle through the gates. The pain as they cut the number into his arm.

Exhale.

He tried to forget his mother, yanked from him. The anger as the fence warped to his will.

Inhale.

He tried to forget the doctor.

The coin.

The gun.

The bullet that killed his mother.

Exhale.

Eventually, he descended peacefully into a warm, white fog.

– – – 

She sat. Alone. Staring into space.

There were other women in the room with her, at least twenty, all avoiding each other. The walls were bare, a drab gray. No windows. A small lamp sat in a corner, the only source of light. Until the door opened and a woman was selected.

The first time the light flooded into the darkness, she thought it was heaven come down to save her. After countless time spent in semi-darkness, she was starved for light. She was the only one to move toward it. But the guard didn't choose her. Another woman, in her mid-thirties, was dragged out, kicking and screaming. She settled back into her corner.

The next time light filled the chamber, she noticed every other woman shirked away from it. She didn't understand until the woman was deposited inside. She huddled in a corner, crying quietly. She was the loudest in the room.

Time didn't exist in the darkness. She counted days by meals, assuming they were fed once every day. It wasn't a substantial meal. Just scraps from the kitchen. Enough to live on. During the times darkness reigned, she'd explore the room bit by bit. She found old, rotting rice and beans on the shelves and assumed that this room was an old food store. Well, at least the purpose of the room hadn't changed. But now it was meant to satisfy a different hunger.

Seven meals had passed when the light chose her. She had been asleep, her arms pillowed underneath her head, dreaming of home. A sharp kick to the gut woke her.  
She grunted in pain, looking up for her attacker.

She froze. Standing above her was a familiar face. He was one of the guards that had brought her here, the taller one.

“Get up,” he growled, yanking her up by the arm.

She yelped in pain, cradling her shoulder with her free hand. His grip solidified on her arm. Nineteen faces turned to the shadows as she was led toward the light.


	3. Pain

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This is where the fic earns its warnings. The rape scene is vague, but you guys know your triggers best. Just a heads up.

He woke to the harsh clang of metal. Sleep still pulling at his body, he struggled to sit up. Blinked up at the new arrivals.

Two meaty guards, glaring at him as they stood to attention. A lanky doctor in a lab coat, smiling down on him with arms open wide.

“Good morning, Erik,” he greeted, eyes twinkling behind his spectacles.

He glared up at him, pressing himself against the rough wall.

The doctor sighed. “Now then, Erik. You can come out by yourself or you can be dragged out.”

He stared angrily at a spot on the floor, unmoving.

“Your choice,” he added. His voice much more threatening than before.

The gaze was heavy on his shoulders, pushing and pulling at once. He wanted to escape the doctor. He didn't want to go near him. Still, he wanted to obey his wishes. Before he found another person to punish for his failures.

_This is hell_ , he decided, _and he is the Devil._

Pointedly avoiding his gaze, he stood and walked through the open cage.

“Good boy, Erik,” he encouraged. “Come with me.”

He braced himself for the death grip on his arms, but the guards made no move toward him. He blinked in confusion and stumbled to follow the doctor. After a few minutes of walking, he glanced back, curious. The pair simply ignored him, continuing their methodical pace behind him. When he turned back, he met the doctor's sharp gaze.

“No need to be so apprehensive,” the man assured him. “I've told them to be gentler with you.”

_Why?_ he wondered. These men were barely human. He was a Jew and they were Nazis. They had no reason to treat him differently from any of the men, women, and children kept in the camp. Except... that he could bend metal at will.He felt a small flicker of hope as they passed the old, iron-wrought windows he had seen yesterday. He clenched his fists, concentrating on the shining metal.

He imagined it ripping open, clearing a path for him to climb through. He wished the metal would swim through the air and tighten around the doctor's neck. He wanted to see his face turn blue, choking and spasming. He shouldn't admire his gift. He should fear it, so much more than any other person in this building. He had to pay.

Suddenly, he felt his knees collide with the hard concrete floor. He turned, realizing the guards had shoved him forward. A moment later he realized he had stopped walking just seconds before.

“Erik,” the doctor scolded.

He braced himself for the reprimanding punch, knowing he deserved it for being so obvious of his escape plans. They now knew he wanted to use the windows. It was over. They'd probably move him to a different cell. Underground, with no vestige of light.

And no one had hit him yet. He slowly looked up, examining his captor.

He was wearing that smile again. The smile that was so happy about hurting him. It made his blood run cold. He froze in place.

“There will be plenty of time for that later,” he said casually. “Under the proper conditions.”

The boy nodded, although he disagreed. He wouldn't do anything for the murderer. But this still seemed to satisfy the doctor and he continued on his path.

The guards pulled him to his feet, wrenching his shoulders. He gasped in pain. They shoved him forward again.

He spared one last glance to the window before complying.

 

– – –

 

The grip on her arm tightened as the taller guard led her through the building. She realized that they were being kept in the soldiers' barracks for easy access. She bit her lip as he yanked her injured shoulder again, blinking back tears. By the time he had stopped pulling her, she had drawn blood.

He opened the door in front of them, shoving her inside. He locked it securely behind him.

She felt his burning gaze on her, raking his eyes down her body. He licked his lips.

She suddenly felt dizzy, bile creeping up her throat. She didn't want this. She didn't deserve this. She should be in control of her own body.

He moved closer to her, gripping her arms. She didn't move or struggle against him, frozen. The rapid pulsing of her heart rang in her ears. The lust of the man drowning her.

She hadn't realized how desperate she was for breath until he crushed his lips on hers. Her lungs burned from the lack of oxygen almost immediately. She wanted to push him away, punch him, anything to get the air back in her lungs. But she was frozen. His emotions pouring into her.

He pulled his lips from hers. She gasped, greedily sucking air into her lungs. He grinned at her, his eyes twinkling sadistically. Tears began to blur her vision, but she blinked them away. If she cried in front of him, she'd be signaling defeat. She wasn't going to let that happen. She had to be strong. For Nira. She wouldn't allow her to be hurt this way. He could do anything he wanted to her body, but her soul would remain intact.

He pushed her down onto his bed, a small cot that groaned with every movement. No doubt this entire floor would hear. Somehow that terrified her more than what she was facing. She didn't want anyone to know how he had shamed her.

Rough fingers yanked her skirt from her body. She heard it hit the floor a few seconds later.

His lips suffocated her again. This time, she focused on his emotions, trying to discover his reasoning behind this.

Tears pricked at her eyes again as he bit at her neck, marking her. She found nothing but the overwhelming lust. He just wanted pleasure. He didn't care that she was ten years younger than him. He didn't care that she was a virgin. He only cared about his own needs. It didn't matter anyway. She was just an animal in his eyes.

Her head started to pound. He was too close and getting closer. She was still suffocating even after he pulled his lips away.

Fingers found her waist, pulling away the last barrier she had. Her eyes snapped shut. His pleasure had spiked now that she was bare to him.

She gasped, desperately trying to suck in air. Her heart thumped violently in her chest, sending a shooting pain through her skull with each beat.

She heard him discard his clothing, the cot shaking with his movements. She turned her head to the door, staring intently. As if she would be transported away if she looked long enough.

Suddenly, he was the closest anyone had ever been. Fire shot through her veins. His pleasure rose and built upon itself, tearing through her. Her throat clogged. Her body went numb. Her vision blurred with tears. Her heart was beating so fast, she thought it would rupture. Her headache worsened, her skull burning, frying her brain.

She wanted to scream, shout, punch, kick, yell. Anything to make the fire stop. But it kept burning, growing, melting her organs. She succumbed to tears, choking out dry, raspy sobs. Her only form of communication.

The fire overrode her, taking her deeper into the inferno. She was drowning, his emotions engulfed her in the burning sea.

The door swam in her vision, sparkling just above the surface. Escape. Safety. Shore. But she couldn't swim up, the current was too strong. She was pulled down, sinking deeper and deeper and deeper. Endlessly.

Trapped. Burning alive, drowning, his moans echoing in the abyss.

 

– – –

 

He sat stock still on the examination table. His heart was racing. He found it hard to swallow. His mouth dry. His eyes began to water when he saw the doctor prepare a syringe.

The room had been cleaned over night. He was shocked to see everything in perfect order even after his sabotage yesterday. This doctor seemed intent on using this room. And that only made him want to ruin it again.

“Roll up your sleeve,” the doctor said pleasantly, as if this were a typical doctor's appointment.

He hesitated, staring at the syringe.

“It's alright, Erik,” he assured. “I just want to take a blood sample.”

He swallowed and obeyed, staring at a spot on the floor. A damp cotton swab rubbed a small patch of his arm, sterilizing the area. He flinched as the needle penetrated his skin, shifting uncomfortably as the doctor slowly drew out blood.

When he was finished, he placed a small bandage on the area and squeezed the boy's shoulder reassuringly. At least, it was supposed to be reassuring. It only made him even more unsettled.

He dared to look up when his captor turned away, depositing the blood sample in a little fridge on the wall. Then, he turned back with a bright smile on his face.

“Next, we test your blood pressure,” he said, grabbing the appropriate equipment.

He sat very still through out the battery of tests he ran on him, trying to find the source of his ability. So many times he wanted to punch the doctor in the face and run, but the guards were still on high alert. He would so much as flinch and they would reach for their guns.

Finally, his arms sore from the constant poking and prodding, the doctor announced that the tests were done.

Relief flooded through his body as he carefully climbed off the table. He would be returned to his cell. He never dreamed he would ever be happy about being imprisoned. Still, that was better than this cold examination room and the infinite array of tests.

Once he had reached the doorway, a hand clapped down on his shoulder. He jumped and looked up. Spectacles shined down at him.

“Now it's time for the real tests, Erik.”

**Author's Note:**

> The background of this chapter was pulled from my recollection of history lessons, various books and movies, and quick Google searches. If you feel that any of the details are not correct, please contact me and I'll do my best to fix them. This goes for any spelling or grammar mistakes as well.


End file.
